我的肌膚，我美麗

逃避和遮掩，都無法抹去業(yè)已存在的疤痕。勇敢面對，正確審視，積極發(fā)掘自身的閃光點，才能最終化劣勢為優(yōu)勢，化“丑”為美。

My scars were a part of me—the part I always tried to hide.

疤痕是我的一部分——我一直想要隱藏的那一部分。

\"Hey， Tahlia!\"

I had just taken a bite of my hot dog when I heard a familiar voice yelling at me from across the crowded school courtyard. I looked up and saw a group of popular girls. They were all laughing.

\"How's the model?\" The same voice called. More laughter.

\"Yeah， Tahlia，\" another girl shouted， \"what kind of modeling are you going to do? An ad for the Frankenstein1) movie?\"

How could they humiliate2) me like this， in front of the entire high school?

As I blinked back the tears， my best friend Jackie stood up and yelled back. \"Like you guys are any better! I don't see any of you on the cover of Vogue!\"

My friend Jesse turned his back to the mean girls. \"Don't listen to them，\" he told me. \"They're just jealous of you.\"

My stomach twisted into a tight knot3). As I got up from the picnic table and headed inside to the cafeteria， I glanced at the thick， dark scars outlining my right hand.

When I was only 9 months old， my mother had been brewing4) tea in an electric pot. She placed me in my walker and stepped just outside the kitchen to talk to my father. In those few seconds， I rolled over to the counter， yanked5) on the cord， and dumped boiling tea all over my hands， stomach， and legs. My parents rushed me to the hospital， praying it wasn't too serious. But I had second- and third-degree burns over 26 percent of my body. Ten percent can be deadly. I had to have several painful skin graft6) operations， where surgeons took healthy skin from my buttocks7) and thighs8) and put it over my burned areas. For an entire month， my mom sat by my bedside， praying I'd survive.

I did survive. But anytime I had a growth spurt9)， I'd outgrow the grafted skin and have to have surgery again. Over the next 13 years， I had 13 surgeries. I was in so much pain! But I learned to handle it. I'd take an aspirin10)， rest， or find something else to do that would take my mind off it. What hurt me most were the cruel things people said about how I looked.

Like that day at lunch. The girls were being super mean to me because they heard I was considering doing some modeling. My friend， who is a psychologist11) at the burn center， had suggested it. \"Tahlia， you are so beautiful，\" Dr. Rimmer had told me. \"Don't let your scars limit you!\" Her idea really got me thinking. It would be such a rush to walk down the runway in glamorous clothes， or pose for the beautiful photos in a magazine. Why should I be afraid to let people see my scars? I could still be considered beautiful.

But after that scene at school， I was sure I'd made a huge mistake. When I got home， I ran to my room and covered my mirror with a blanket. I didn't want to risk catching even a glimpse of my scarred-up self. Then I fell on my bed and sobbed. Dr. Rimmer isn't a modeling agent. What does she know? What was I thinking?

As I lay there， a rush of images flooded over me. Like the time when I was 10 and wore a bikini to the public pool. As I came out of the dressing room a girl stared at my scars， and said， \"Ewwww! You should cover yourself up!\" And the time when I tried out for volleyball in seventh grade—wearing jeans and turtleneck12).

The next day， I forced myself to go to school. But I hung out in the cafeteria at lunch instead of going outside， to avoid any confrontation13) with those girls. My two best friends， Jackie and Jesse， sat with me and tried to give me a pep talk14). \"You really are pretty， you know，\" Jackie told me. \"Don't worry what other people say.\"

Jesse， though， felt like enough was enough. \"You can't hide forever， Tahlia，\" he told me. \"You've got to face your fears. So what if you have a few scars? Just go outside and show them that you're just as good as they are.\"

Although I knew he was right， I couldn't imagine standing up for myself like that. I'd spent so many years covering up and distancing myself from people.

That night as I sat on my bed， I glanced at the blanket over my mirror. Jesse's words replayed in my mind. \"You can't hide forever.\" I'm even hiding from myself， I thought. How dumb is that? Covering my mirror—that wasn't going to take my scars away. And neither was hiding under layers of clothes.

I stood up， walked over to the mirror， and tossed the blanket aside. Looking back at me was a tall， dark-haired， blue-eyed girl. A girl who had a few scars. But I had to admit， she looked just fine.

The next day I wore a comfy T-shirt to school. And at lunch， after I grabbed my burger and fries， I headed over to Jesse and Jackie. \"Okay， let's do it，\" I said. \"Outside.\"

They both smiled and followed me into the school courtyard. I walked right past the mean girls. They stared at me， but they didn't say anything. I guess they were shocked that I even dared to walk into their territory.

Jackie， Jesse， and I sat at our favorite picnic table， just like always. But this time was different. I felt free. I felt happy.

Sometimes people still look at me strange. They whisper and stare， but I don't let it get to me. I wear what I'm comfortable in—and that means shorts and T-shirts to play volleyball， and yes， a bikini at the beach. I am now putting together a modeling portfolio15)， and at least one agency is considering me for jobs. Maybe I'll never end up on the runway or in the pages of Vogue， because modeling is a tough business.

But I do know one thing: I'm done hiding.

“嘿，塔利亞！”

我才剛咬了一口熱狗，一聲熟悉的叫嚷就從擁擠的學校操場那邊傳來。我抬頭尋聲望去，看見一群在學校里頗受歡迎的女孩兒們正沖我大笑。

“模特的事兒怎么樣啦？” 方才喊我的那個女孩兒問道。這引來了更多的笑聲。

“是呀，塔利亞，”另一個女孩兒大聲說，“你準備當什么類型的模特呀？是電影《科學怪人》的廣告模特么？”

她們怎么可以這樣，怎么可以當著全校師生的面如此羞辱我呢？

就在我極力將眼淚擠回眼眶時，我的摯友雅姬站了出來，沖她們吼道：“你們這些家伙能好到哪里去！也沒見你們中有誰登上過《時尚》雜志的封面！”

我的朋友杰西轉(zhuǎn)過身，背對著那些尖酸刻薄的女孩兒們。“別聽她們的，”他對我說，“她們只是嫉妒你而已。”

我的胃緊緊地揪成一團。我起身離開野餐桌，就在走進自助餐廳的那一刻，我瞥了一眼右手外輪廓上那一大片厚重的暗色疤痕。

那是我剛九個月大的一天，媽媽正用電水壺煮茶。她把我放在學步車里，走出廚房去跟爸爸說話。就在那幾秒鐘的時間里，我滑到了操作臺前，猛地一拉電線，整壺沸水全都潑在我的手上、肚子上和腿上。爸爸媽媽趕緊把我送到醫(yī)院，祈禱燙傷不會太嚴重。然而，我全身有26%被確診為二度和三度燙傷，而10%就已經(jīng)足以致命。我不得不接受幾次痛苦的皮膚移植手術(shù)，將臀部和大腿上的皮膚移植到燙傷部位。整整一個月，媽媽都坐在我的床邊，祈禱我能熬過這一關(guān)。

我活了下來。但是，每當我進入快速生長期時，移植的皮膚就跟不上身體的生長速度了，我不得不再做手術(shù)。之后的十三年里，我經(jīng)歷了十三次手術(shù)。我陷入了極度的痛苦之中！但我學會了應對。我會吃一片阿司匹林，臥床休息，或者做點別的事情來轉(zhuǎn)移自己的注意力。但傷我最深的是人們在議論我的外表時說的那些殘忍的話語。

就像那天午餐的時候。那些女孩兒因為聽說了我正在考慮當模特的事情，所以對我極盡尖酸刻薄之能事。而去當模特是我的朋友，燙傷中心的一位心理學家的建議。“塔利亞，你這么漂亮，”里梅醫(yī)生告訴我，“別讓疤痕埋沒了你！”她的提議的確引發(fā)了我的思考。穿著迷人的衣服走在T型臺上，或者擺個姿勢給雜志拍照，那會是多么讓人激動的事情啊！為什么我要害怕讓其他人看見我的疤痕呢？大家還是會覺得我很美的。

但發(fā)生了學校里的那一幕之后，我確信自己犯了個天大的錯誤。回到家里，我沖進房間，用毛毯蒙住鏡子。我甚至連瞥一眼疤痕累累的自己都不敢。我倒在床上開始抽泣。里梅醫(yī)生又不是模特經(jīng)紀人。她知道什么？我到底都在想些什么啊？

我躺在那兒，腦海里涌現(xiàn)出無數(shù)的畫面。十歲那年，我穿了件比基尼泳衣去公共泳池游泳。從更衣室出來的時候，一個女孩兒盯著我的疤痕說：“呃！你真該把自己裹得嚴實點兒！”我還想起七年級時，我去參加排球隊員選拔——穿著牛仔褲和高領(lǐng)毛衣。

第二天，我強迫自己去上學。但午餐時，我就泡在自助餐廳里，不再出去，避免跟那些女孩兒有任何沖突。我那兩個最好的朋友，雅姬和杰西，跟我坐在一起，試圖對我說些鼓勵的話。“知道么，你真的很漂亮，”雅姬對我說，“別擔心旁人說什么。”

杰西卻覺得不能再忍了。“你不能永遠躲躲藏藏，塔利亞，”他說，“你要面對自己的恐懼。就算你有些疤痕，那又怎么樣？走出去，讓她們看看你不比她們差。”

我知道他是對的，但我卻無法想象自己像他說的那樣保護自己。這些年來，我一直都把自己遮得嚴嚴實實，和他人保持著距離。

那天晚上，我坐在床上，掃了一眼鏡子上的毛毯。杰西的話在我腦中回響：“你不能永遠躲躲藏藏。”我甚至逃避著自己，我想。那樣該有多蠢啊？蒙住鏡子——那樣是抹不掉我身上的疤痕的。藏在一層一層厚厚的衣服下也同樣抹不掉。

我站起身，朝鏡子走過去，把毛毯拽下來扔到了一邊。鏡子里的我是一個身材高挑、黑發(fā)碧眼的女孩兒，一個有著些許疤痕的女孩兒。但我必須承認，她看上去還不錯。

第二天上學，我穿了一件舒適的T恤。午餐時，我拿了漢堡和薯條，朝杰西和雅姬走去。“來吧，咱們吃飯吧。”我說，“去外面吃。”

他們不約而同地笑了，跟我走進學校操場。恰好經(jīng)過那些刻薄的女孩兒身邊時，她們緊緊盯著我，但沒說一句話。我猜她們是被嚇到了，沒想到我竟然膽敢走進她們的地盤。

我和雅姬、杰西在我們最喜歡的野餐桌旁坐下，就像往常一樣。但這次卻又不一樣。我覺得自在。我覺得開心。

有時候，人們?nèi)匀粫靡环N異樣的眼光看著我。他們竊竊私語，目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地盯著我，但我不會因此而影響到自己。我穿著讓自己舒服的衣服——就是說，打排球時穿短褲和T恤，嗯，是的，去沙灘時穿比基尼泳裝。現(xiàn)在，我正在整理一套模特選輯，并且，至少有一家經(jīng)紀公司正考慮錄用我。或許，我最終也不會走上T臺或者登上《時尚》雜志，畢竟當模特是一件不太容易的事情。

但我卻真正懂得了一件事：我再也不會遮遮掩掩。